Bored to Death

I woke before sunrise, which given my evening was not the best idea I have had today. In a fit of boredom, I decided to do some laundry. Laundry is not an antidote to boredom, but it takes one’s mind away from unpleasant thoughts. Who can be angry or sad when the prospect of batch of fresh clean clothes looms?

Then I stumbled across the lovely passage on boredom in Kierkegaard’s Either/Or that begins like this.

Starting from a principle that is affirmed by people of experience to be a very reasonable procedure; I am willing to humor them, and so begin with the principle that all men are bores. Surely no one will prove himself so great a bore as to contradict me in this.

Further, he says:

The more you limit yourself, the more fertile you become in invention. A prisoner in solitary confinement for life becomes very inventive, and a spider may furnish him with much entertainment.

Have I cited out of context? Surely, no one will prove so great a bore to contradict me! I just fucking love it.

Why am I writing this? Well, I am avoiding working on a play about the time my Dad fell in love with a young French woman in Paris at the end of World War II, and encountered Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus up close and personal. Of course, that never happened but it is the story, such as it is.

I think I need a girlfriend. It has been five years since the last one. They are so much work though if you want to keep them.

However, I am bored. The exercise might do me good.